


the universe was made (just to be seen by my eyes)

by JuliaRose12



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Carbonite, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hibernation sickness, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stargazing, as in post-carbonite, mid-rotj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaRose12/pseuds/JuliaRose12
Summary: the impacts of being frozen in carbonite aren't just physical. han and leia deal with the aftermath together.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 21
Kudos: 86





	the universe was made (just to be seen by my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> !! this is my first fic in such a long time! although han and leia are my favorite fictional couple ever, i've never really written them because i've always been intimidated. and then this happened completely out of nowhere. i spend a lot of time thinking about their trip to sullust after they leave tatooine, and what they would both be dealing with, especially considering han's hibernation sickness. i love the idea of them just having tender, quiet moments together where they're both healing and processing what happened. comments and feedback would be much appreciated! thank you for taking the time to read <3

He had been fine after Tatooine, at least for the first few hours. Aside from his initial lack of sight, Han had seemed alert, and he had more energy than Leia expected, leading her to the hope that maybe hibernation sickness wasn’t as severe and glaring an issue as she expected it to be.

It was strange, really, the way the illness developed. As his eyesight returned, or at least improved, his physical condition worsened. It had been the adrenaline, she realized later. That had been what had kept him on his feet as they scrambled to escape. 

Since then, the last five days have been spent in different ways for the two of them - for him, in misery. For her - in worry. 

He’d woken during the first night back on the Falcon soaked in sweat and feverish, shaking uncontrollably and paler than she’d ever seen. She’d clamped down the terror clawing at the back of her throat to sit him up in bed, to keep a hand on the back of his neck as he emptied his stomach into the cargo crate she’d managed to grab when she’d felt his back tightening under her touch. 

“It’s hibernation sickness,” she’d said into his shoulder and into the dim light of the room as she tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. “It’s okay, Han. It’s okay.”

He’d fallen back asleep, but not until night had turned to morning, and not without her arms around him and his head tucked against her chest and under her chin. He was disoriented and afraid, that much she could tell, but she knew that him seeking comfort from her wasn’t only because he was sick. It was what she wanted, too. 

The Rebellion had been notified the next day that there’d be a delay in their arrival - Captain Solo had fallen ill, and although they’d be there as soon as they could, he was in no condition to prepare for whatever was to come next. 

If Leia was being completely honest with herself, neither was she. 

Lying beside him on the sixth night since his rescue, she knows that neither of them, no one on this ship (aside from Chewbacca, maybe) is in a state that’d be considered fit to serve their cause. She will be, soon, but not tonight, not as she lies awake beside Han as he tosses and turns, groans in his sleep every few moments as sweat forms in tiny beads across his forehead. 

She’s held on to him every night, and him to her, tethered to each other in the middle of space. 'I love him' runs through her mind every time she brushes his hair out of his eyes, every time he looks at her with a small smile, asks her how she’s feeling, how she slept, despite the fact that he can barely stand on his own. 

Tonight is no different - he wakes with a start beside her, and she’s there to help him sit up and deliver whatever type of comfort he needs. 

“Leia?” he reaches for her hand over the blankets and she takes it, giving it a reassuring squeeze as she threads their fingers together. He rubs his eyes clumsily with his other hand as she flicks on the light on the other side of the room - just bright enough so she can see him beyond the outline of his face. 

“Are you going to be sick?” she asks gently, but he shakes his head before she’s finished the question. 

“No. I think that part’s over, at least.”

“Good,” she rubs her free hand over his back, and it’s then that she feels the shiver running up and down his spine. His body temperature has been inconsistent since they left Tatooine - sometimes he’s flushed and hot, and other times, far too cold. “Let me get another blanket,” she moves to slide off the bed. “I’ll warm one up, it’ll help.”

“That’s not-“ he starts, and it stops her from leaving. “I’m not cold, it’s alright.” 

“Han, you’re shivering.”

“I know,” he ducks his head. “I know. S’not a physical thing though, this time.”

She doesn’t understand, so she simply waits, knowing he’ll explain if she gives him time to sort out his words. 

“Bein’ stuck in here…” he sighs, but it comes out more like a shudder. “It’s messin’ with me. With my head.”

Leia’s reacts without even thinking, sliding back a bit on the bed so she’s no longer pressed up against him - she hopes, prays that he’s not talking about being here with her, but she’s not willing to take any chances while he’s breaking apart in front of her like this. 

His reaction is as instant as her own. “No, no,” he mumbles, squeezing her hand and turning to face her. He repeats it again, with more conviction and assurance in his voice than she’s heard since Bespin. “No. Not about you. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“What is it, then?” She’s back up against his side now, one hand holding his, the other buried in his hair against the back of his head. She can feel the tremors in his shoulders where she’s leaned against him. 

“Sometimes when I-“ he rubs his eyes again. “It’s small in here, dark. When I wake up, it feels like everything’s closin’ in on me. Like I’m back there.”

Her heart clenches painfully in her chest, but she doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t move aside from rubbing her thumb back and forth over his hand. 

“Feelin’ you next to me, that helps. Reminds me that it’s over and I’m not trapped in there anymore. It’s hard, though.” 

“I’m so sorry, Han,” she moves a hand to his cheek and he leans into her touch. He’s more vulnerable now than he’s ever been in her presence, and she doesn’t know if she should feel comforted or heartbroken. “You went through something horrible, it’s okay to feel this way.”

He shakes his head. “Embarrassing’s what it is.” 

Leia isn’t willing to have this argument with him, not when he’s this shaken up, so she goes with a method of reasoning that she knows won’t fail. “Remember on the way to Bespin? The nightmare I had? Did you think that was embarrassing?”

She feels a twinge of guilt for the horrified look that flashes across his face, but she knows this is the only way to break through to him, to stop him from vilifying himself before it gets worse. “Leia, no. Never. That’s not what I-“

“Shh,” she reassures. “I know. I wasn’t accusing you. If that wasn’t embarrassing for me, then you shouldn’t think that way about yourself. It’s a reaction to trauma. Nothing more than that.”

“Okay,” he nods shakily. “Alright.”

He still doesn’t look any better than he did when he woke, though. “I have an idea,” Leia starts. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Han gives her a sheepish look that triggers yet another chorus of 'I love him I love him I love him.' “Might need some help, though.”

Leia slides off the bunk first, and he follows. She pulls a new, clean blanket from the pile on the floor at her feet and drapes it over his shoulders like a cape, waiting for him to stand and lean into her like he’s done almost every time he’s moved around the Falcon since his return. 

He’s a little unsteady, but he manages with her leading him out of their quarters and down the hall. “Where’re we going, princess?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, and relief washes over her like a wave. “Bedroom wasn’t private enough for ya?” 

He looks down and winks, and she huffs at him and shoves him forward. The laugh she gets out of him is the most welcome sound she’s heard in days. 

She doesn’t respond to his confused look and furrowed brows when she palms open the door to the cockpit, maneuvering him into the pilot’s seat and settling in the space behind him. From where they’ve stopped for the night, on the outskirts of Naboo with nothing obstructing the sky, the stars are clear and bright and endless above them. 

“I don’t want you to fall asleep here, because you’ll be sore in the morning,” her hands find his shoulders, and stay there. “But whenever I feel trapped, it helps to look up. I know it’s all there, but it’s nice to see it.”

Han sighs, but it doesn’t sound pained or cornered. More content, really. 

“I used to look at the stars all the time when I was a kid,” she can hear the tired smile in his voice. “Used to try to make my own maps and everything, planning out where I wanted to go someday. What I wanted to see.”

She leans forward to press her lips to his cheek, and lingers there. Then she takes the seat beside him, content to watch him relax as he watches the stars. Everything had felt so confusing and complicated the last time they’d sat here together. She realizes now that it’s simpler than she’d made it out to be. He’s simpler. 

'What would my father think, what would my father’s advisors think, what will they all think' had run rampant in her head mere months ago. She’d boxed it all away as a million more important things to worry about took precedence. And then they’d taken him and she realized that she didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. It didn’t matter. None of it. 

'My father would be happy for me,' she decides as Han turns to her, pointing out a star and telling her another story from his childhood. 'Rebel gossip has never bothered me before, and that’s not going to change.'

“It’s so clear tonight,” Han rests his head against the back of his seat. The dark circles under his eyes look less harsh here, and the pale light from outside is calming and grounding in a way that only something so vast and natural could be.

When his voice gets sleepier a little while later, she stands back up again, stretching and then spinning his chair around so the stars are a frame behind his head. “Ready to go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” he stands slowly and she pulls his arm over her shoulders. “I’m feelin’ a lot better now. Less like somebody's squeezing the life out of my chest.” He pauses, and then kisses the crown of her head where it’s pressed against him. 

They make it back to their bunk without waking Chewie or Lando, and the mood of the room is much, much different than it was when they left. Han’s still sick, but he’ll get better. The Rebellion is waiting for them, and once Han heals, they’ll all be ready for whatever comes next. 

“Thank you, Leia,” Han’s voice is a whisper as he drifts back to sleep, her leg thrown over his and her palm resting against warm skin under his shirt. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she whispers back. “‘Night, hotshot.” 

With the stars above them and the universe paused for the night, they sleep.


End file.
